Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
TOBIAS
It was past midnight when we got home from The Lair, and I haven’t slept a single minute.
Rebecca’s horrifying recount of the night before I met her keeps running over and over in my mind, like a horror movie I can’t turn off.
I’d feared the worst when she told me about the time Marcus brought home a friend and shared her then, but gang rape? I had not seen that coming.
My blood is made up of raw anger. I can’t bring Marcus back to life, but I am going to find every single man who touched her that night and put them in the fucking ground.
I’m not sure how yet. I can’t ask her. Not now, at least. Her memories are too fresh, too painful.
The last thing I want to do is add to her agony.
But one way or another, I will make them pay. They won’t get away with this.
No wonder the idea of being touched by another man is abhorrent. Despite my growing feelings for my wife, I won’t act on them. I can’t. I’m not that guy.
Besides, what if we did try to change the terms of our arrangement and I had the same reaction with her as I’ve had with every other person I’ve attempted intimacy with?
A rejection like that when she trusts me would destroy our entire relationship, and I’d rather protect what we have than burn it all to the ground.
I’m about to head to the dining room for breakfast when there’s a light tap on my door.
My heart rate shoots up. Rebecca? We didn’t talk much in the car on the way home last night, and we both went our separate ways as soon as we returned to Oakleigh.
Will it be awkward between us? Will she regret telling me of the atrocities she went through that night?
I take a breath and open the door.
“Isla.” I crouch down to my stepdaughter’s level and grin at her. “Good morning, sweetheart. Where’s Mama?”
She gestures in the direction of their rooms. I’m guessing Rebecca is still asleep. “Hungry?”
She nods, then holds out her hand for me to take. My heart swells to twice its size. I love this kid so fucking much. It makes me even more determined to quash my growing feelings for Rebecca. I’m not averse to risk taking, but that is a step too far. The potential losses are astronomical.
I take Isla’s hand, and she skips alongside me to the dining room, which is empty.
There’s a pile of pancakes in the middle of the table plus bowls of fruit.
I smile. The staff already know how much Isla loves pancakes.
I wonder if they saw her on the way to my rooms and anticipated she’d be along shortly.
It wouldn’t surprise me. Our household staff are wonderful.
They anticipate our needs before we know what they are.
I lift her onto a chair with a bolster cushion. “Okay, Miss Isla, how about a pancake?”
Both thumbs shoot in the air.
I pick up the tongs and lift a pancake off the stack and put it on a plate. “What fruit do you want?” I point at the blueberries.
She shakes her head. Same with bananas and raspberries.
“Strawberry.”
My jaw drops, and my heart damn near expires. I stare at Isla. She spoke. She fucking spoke. Or did I imagine it? A sharp gasp sounds behind me. I twist my head to see Rebecca’s standing by the door, a hand clasped over her mouth.
I crouch beside Isla. “Did you…? Can you say it again, sweetheart? What did you want?”
She points at the bowl overflowing with ripe strawberries. “Strawberry.”
Rebecca lets out a strangled sob, and my cheeks are wet. I swipe at the tears as Rebecca falls to her knees beside me.
“Isla, oh, my clever girl.” She cups Isla’s cheeks. “Yes, darling, you can have strawberries. As many as you want.”
I reach for the bowl and hold it in front of Isla. She takes a handful and drops them onto her pancake like it’s no big deal and she hasn’t just rocked our world by uttering her first word since she was three. The first word I’ve ever heard her speak.
“Syrup.”
Rebecca’s openly crying now. Isla seems oblivious to the momentous moment that her mother and I are struggling to deal with. I pass her the syrup and collapse beside Rebecca as my legs give out, too.
“What are you two doing on the floor?”
I look up at Grace, her expression bemused. “Isla spoke,” I croak.
“Oh, my God.” She beams. “Isla, you little champ.”
Isla continues tucking into her breakfast like this is a regular day.
I stagger to my feet and reach out a hand to help Rebecca up.
Once she’s standing, she flings her arms around my neck, and I encircle her waist. This is a completely different experience from the way I held her last night as she cried, yet just as incredible.
I could hold this woman for hours every day of my life and never want to let go.
Isla cleans her plate before dropping her fork with a clang. Rebecca untangles herself from me, a faint blush to her tearstained cheeks as though she’s embarrassed for throwing herself at me.
“All done, sweetheart?” I hold my breath, waiting for another word. Isla just nods. It doesn’t matter, though. She spoke, twice. This is only the beginning.
“Hey, why don’t I take Isla for a half an hour or so while you two talk?”
I look at Rebecca, who nods. “Thank you, Grace. That would be wonderful.”
“Want to go see Vicky and Daisy, Isla?”
Another nod before she takes Grace’s hand and they leave the dining room. Grace closes the door behind us, giving us privacy. I’m sure she’ll get the word out to leave us alone for a little while.
“I can’t believe it,” Rebecca whispers. “I thought I was hearing things.”
“Me, too.”
She makes eye contact with me, hers glistening. “You did this. By paying for therapy, you helped her talk. I don’t know what to say, Tobias. I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for us.”
For some reason, that word “repay” rankles. I don’t want her gratitude. I want her love, her affection. I want her to be my wife. A real wife.
An impossible dream.
Rebecca presses her palm to my face, cradling me there. Our eyes lock. This feels good, but more than that, it feels right.
Her thumb drags absently across my cheek, and something inside me, something I’ve spent years avoiding, shifts.
“Wren,” my voice rasps. “I told you last night, you owe me nothing, and I meant it.”
“But I do,” she whispers. “So much. You gave me back my daughter, my life, my self-esteem. I didn’t think I’d ever feel whole again. I never thought I’d trust a man again. Then you came along and proved me wrong.”
My chest rises on a shaky inhale. Her eyes are locked on mine.
The space between us narrows, almost imperceptibly, like we’re two magnets that can’t fight the pull any longer.
Her clean scent envelopes me, her warmth comforts me.
She leans in. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and my lungs stop working, my heart beating too fast, my stomach twisted into a pretzel.
“Tobias.” She breathes my name.
My hand rises on instinct, cupping her jaw, giving her every chance to back away, to stop what feels inevitable at this point. I’m scared of my body having a negative reaction to her, but I’m beyond the point of no return.
Inch by inch, I draw closer to her until our foreheads touch.
Her fingers curl at the nape of my neck, clutching a lock of my hair.
It’s as though she’s anchoring herself to me.
Her lips part on a shuddering exhale, and I’m not sure who makes the first move.
Then we’re kissing, clinging to each other as if we’ll die if we let go.
Her fingers tighten at my nape, and a quiet moan sounds in her throat. She exhales softly against me, and in that breath is every wall crumbling, joining the shattered remains lying at my feet.
My first kiss where I don’t want to peel off my skin and set fire to it. I’m not repulsed.
I’m eager for more.
I run my tongue along her bottom lip, and she trembles in my arms. I deepen the kiss, licking inside her mouth, tentative, searching, hoping I’m doing this right.
Her hand slips from my cheek, and she goes still. She pulls back, a single step. It may as well be a gaping gorge. Her eyes are wide, stunned, and there’s a flicker of panic behind them that guts me.
“I—” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I said I’d never—”
And there it is. Regret. A redrawing of boundaries.
“You don’t need to apologize.” My voice is rough, and I’m crumbling inside, but I keep my composure. “It was a moment, that’s all. A reaction to Isla talking.”
She swallows, hard. “Yeah, a moment.” Her gaze drops to the floor, and she takes another step back. Hooking a thumb over her shoulder, she mutters, “I should go and find Isla.” Without another word or a glance at me, she pivots and virtually sprints from the room.
I fall into the nearest chair. It wasn’t “a moment” for me. One kiss has changed everything. I feared it would be like all the other times I’ve tried kissing women and men, but it wasn’t. That little voice, which has slowly grown in volume, was right. An impossible reality that’s no less true.
I think I’m in love with my wife.